


Darling I want the same thing (that I wanted before)

by givebackmylifecas



Series: Safe to fall [2]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Domestic Fluff, Everyone Is Alive, Family Fluff, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25232464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givebackmylifecas/pseuds/givebackmylifecas
Summary: “The KaDeWe?” Berrote asks, exchanging a look with his daemon as he perches on the edge of his desk. “That’s a big heist. Good security, modern systems.”“If you can’t do it, Berrote, just tell me now,” Andrés says impatiently.Immediately the Argentinian is on his feet, his daemon finally letting go of his shirt to jump to the floor hissing. “Oh I can do it,” he says, a dangerous grin on his face.Prequel and Sequel scenes for my Daemon-AU 'The Weight of Us Both'
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: Safe to fall [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817773
Comments: 52
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fscotts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fscotts/gifts).



> So this is a gift for aleks and is going to be a collection of scenes that take place both before and after my fic 'The Weight of Us Both' in no particular order. You should probably read that one first.
> 
> TWs for: canon-typical language, mild recreational drug use, implied/referenced disordered eating (I'll update more as i go)
> 
> Fic title from the Snow Patrol song 'how to be dead' (and thank you mav for helping to pick it, you're the best)
> 
> Rules for the daemon world, although if you've read the first fic, you'll probably know them:  
> \- daemons are a manifestation of a person's soul/inner self and present physically as animals  
> \- the animal is specific to the person although they can change their shape at will up until puberty when they settle in their final animal form  
> \- daemons are usually the opposite sex to their person  
> \- daemons talk to their person and other daemons but rarely to other people  
> \- touching another person's daemon is taboo unless they're super close and have permission. daemons can interact freely with each other though  
> \- daemon's can physically only be a few meters from their person or they're both in pain

**Berlin – 2007**

“Everyone’s staring,” Aethra says and Andrés smiles down at her.

“It’s because you’re beautiful, querida. Look around, at this dull, grey city and tell me you aren’t the most radiant thing here,” he says smugly, gesturing at the tall apartment buildings surrounding them.

Aethra’s silent for a moment, the only sound the clicking of her claws against the concrete pavement. “We’re not exactly inconspicuous, is all I’m saying.”

“You’re right, but it doesn’t matter. The day after tomorrow we’ll be gone, the German police won’t know where to look for us and we’ll be able to treat ourselves to something nice, huh?”

Aethra huffs and Andrés picks her up, letting her lick his chin beratingly.

“I just don’t understand why we’re here, when we should be preparing for tomorrow night,” she says.

“Mi amor, this is part of the preparation. You know that Jan said this guy is an expert who will make our lives much easier,” Andrés explains.

Aethra makes a disbelieving noise but doesn’t protest, so Andrés just strokes her head until they get to the front door of one of the apartment buildings. He places her carefully on the ground and rings the buzzer for Schmidtmann.

“He’s not there,” a voice says from above them.

Andrés takes a couple steps back, Aethra moving in sync with him, to look up at the first floor balcony. A man is leaning on the railing, cigarette lazily dangling from one hand. He’s dressed only in a pair of boxers and an overlarge t-shirt and Andrés doesn’t know how he stands the frigid Berlin air.

“You’re looking for Schmidtmann, right?” The man asks, his German heavily accented. “The police came and dragged him out of his flat this morning.”

Andrés stares and then gives the man a curt nod. “Danke,” he says and turns to leave.

“Wait,” the man calls. Andrés stops and shares a look with Aethra before turning back to the man, still leaning against the railing. “You were here for his help, right? With… wiring.”

The man gives Andrés a significant look.

Andrés looks down at Aethra, then back at the man. “That’s correct.”

“I can help you if you want,” he says. “We were in the same line of work.”

“Really?” Andrés asks, folding his arms across his chest.

The man nods. “Yeah, and not to brag, but… I’m better.”

Andrés laughs. “How on earth do you expect me to believe that?”

“I’m not currently in a holding cell, am I?” the man asks cockily. When Andrés doesn’t say anything, the man shrugs and stubs out his cigarette. “Number 1B if you change your mind,” he says, before disappearing back inside.

“What do you think?” he asks Aethra.

She sits down, tail wrapping around herself. “I think we can’t do the heist without someone to short-circuit the alarms. I also think that we don’t know this man, and that we don’t know if we can trust him.”

Andrés considers her for a moment. “1B did he say?”

She nods and together they walk back towards the building’s door. The doorbell for 1B has the name Berrote and when Andrés presses it, it only takes a moment before there’s a buzzing sound and the front door is unlocking. He pushes it open, letting Aethra walk ahead of him as they survey the dingy entrance hall.

They walk up the concrete steps and stop outside the door labelled with a metal 1B. Andrés raps on it smartly and it opens to reveal the man from the balcony. He hasn’t put on any more clothes, but he’s wearing a smug smile. He’s shorter than Andrés, although not by much and when he smiles Andrés can see one of his teeth is chipped.

“Berrote?” Andrés questions. “That doesn’t sound German.”

Berrote shrugs. “This is Neukölln, most people here aren’t German.”

Andrés is about to ask more, when there’s a rustling and Berrote leaves him standing in the doorway, moving further into the flat. Andrés follows, Aethra pressed to the side of his leg, and is surprised to see the amount of books covering every available surface in the flat.

Berrote disappears behind a huge desk, yelling at someone on the floor. “Luca, por favor, deja los cálculos en paz. ¡No puedo encontrar cosas cuando tiras los papeles al suelo!”

Aethra whines and Andrés picks her up. “He’s Spanish?” she whispers and Andrés shakes his head. Berrote continues to rant in Spanish, the phrase “la concha tu madre” falling frequently as he shovels masses of papers up onto the desk.

“The accent is wrong,” he says as Berrote reappears with what must be his daemon, a huge ginger animal that try as he might, Andrés can’t place. The daemon – cat, weasel, whatever it is – clings to Berrote’s chest, paws dug into the fabric of his shirt collar, it’s body hanging down his chest, tail reaching his knees.

“What is she?” Aethra asks Andrés amazed – and apparently very loudly, because the daemon’s head snaps towards them.

“A jaguarundi,” Berrote replies in Spanish. “And Luca is a he.”

“Where are you from?” Andrés questions, skating over what Berrote clearly was expecting a response to – the gender of his daemon – judging by the way his arms tightened around Luca. “It’s not Europe, your accent is all wrong. South American, right?”

“Argentinian,” Luca answers for Berrote, who runs a hand down the daemon’s back. “Where are you from?”

Andrés raises an eyebrow. He’s never met a daemon quite so willing to speak to other people before and he finds himself both intrigued and a little charmed by it. “Aethra and I are from Spain.”

Berrote looks between his daemon and Andrés, a slightly amused look on his face. “Well, then, what are you doing here? I’m assuming you want to rob somewhere if you were looking to do business with Schmidtmann. Where and when?”

“Tomorrow night,” Andrés says, carefully taking a seat on the only chair not covered in papers or books. “The KaDeWe.”

“The KaDeWe?” Berrote asks, exchanging a look with his daemon as he perches on the edge of his desk. “That’s a big heist. Good security, modern systems.”

“If you can’t do it, Berrote, just tell me now,” Andrés says impatiently.

Immediately the Argentinian is on his feet, his daemon finally letting go of his shirt to jump to the floor hissing. “Oh I can do it,” he says, a dangerous grin on his face. “But I want a piece of the prize.”

“How much?”

“Fifty percent,” Berrote immediately replies.

Andrés shakes his head. “No.”

Berrote is still smiling, his daemon now winding around his legs. “You need me more than I need you. You’ll never get in there without me, so… we split it fifty-fifty or get the fuck out of my flat.”

Andrés eyes him, weighing the pros and cons of having this man involved. “Deal,” he says finally.

Berrote grins. “Then let’s get to work.”

-

Andrés stares at Berrote as he drives out of the city, his daemon draped across his shoulders and the back of his seat. His face is flushed, eyes still bright with the excitement of their success.

They had got in and out of the KaDeWe in forty-five minutes without tripping a single alarm, being seen by anyone, or recorded by a single camera and Andrés still has now idea how the fuck they did it.

“You’re a genius,” he says incredulously, looking over his shoulder at the bag full of jewellery, watches, and electronics on the back seat. “You’re insane but you’re a fucking genius.”

Berrote grins at him, his daemon lazily nosing at the side of his face. “I told you so. Now, where do you want dropped off? Luca and I were going to leave Germany, maybe head down to Italy, so just say where best suits you.”

“What’s your name?” Andrés asks instead of answering the question.

Berrote frowns. “You know my name already. Although I don’t know yours. I’ve just been calling you the fancy-ass Spaniard in my head.”

“Andrés de Fonollosa,” Andrés says, holding out his hand.

Berrote frowns, glancing away from the road and lets go of the steering wheel to hold out his own hand at an awkward angle and shake Andrés'. “Martín. Martín Berrote.”

“Martín,” Andrés says slowly, rolling the name around on his tongue. “How would you feel about going to Amsterdam with me, instead of Italy?”

Martín shrugs. “Why not? We seem to make a good team.”

Andrés smiles wide and on his lap, Aethra gives her own vulpine equivalent. “I agree Martín, we do. And I think I’m going to keep you.”

* * *

**Vienna – 2010**

Andrés sighs when he walks out into the garden and finds Martín fast asleep on a sun-lounger. Luca is stretched out on top of him, head resting in the hollow of Martín’s throat, body covering most of his naked torso in a long line of brilliantly orange fur.

There’s an ash tray on the ground next to them and Andrés sighs again. Aethra snuffles around next to it and then rises up on her hind legs to nudge Luca. He doesn’t stir and she trots back to Andrés.

“Out cold,” she confirms and Andrés swears. “Third time this week,” she adds pointedly and he nods.

“I know, mi amor.”

“You need to do something about it.”

He frowns at her. “I’ve tried.”

“Try harder. Stay home more, find another heist, do something so that he doesn’t spend his days here getting high!” she insists, eyes fixed on Luca.

“What would you have me do? I promised Karo no more heists until after the wedding. I won’t jeopardise what I have with her because Martín’s bored,” he tells her.

“He’s not just bored and you know it,” she says and Andrés sighs.

“I know. But Sergio will be here soon and Martín should be awake to greet him, don’t you think?”

Aethra nods and turns, leading him back into the house. “Coffee,” she says, sitting down in front of the counter that has Martín’s ridiculously expensive coffee-machine on it.

“I know,” Andrés says. “I’m not stupid.”

Aethra gives him a look that says she thinks otherwise as she watches him pull a mug off the tree and start pouring beans into the machine.

“Don’t forget the syrup,” she nags. “He likes the cookie one at the moment.”

Andrés flicks her ear gently and she nips his hand in retaliation. He opens the cupboard and surveys the impressive array of syrups Martín has amassed over the last couple of months. He finally finds the cookie-flavoured one in between the gingerbread and the hazelnut and pours what he considers a frankly indecent amount into the bottom of the mug.

“How he can drink this stuff I’ll never know,” he mutters and Aethra laughs.

“You know I’ve seen him put twice that much in,” she says.

Andrés frowns as he adds milk and holds the mug under the steamer. “I know, but I want him to still have all his teeth by the time he’s forty.”

“Uh huh,” Aethra says. “Then why do you let him have those mini cheesecakes?”

Andrés scowls. “You know he doesn’t eat enough, I’m not going to take away one of the few things he does eat regularly.” He puts the mug of frothed milk onto the grille in front of the coffee machine and watches the espresso drip down into it. When he turns back, Aethra is staring at him. “What?” he demands and she shakes her head.

“Nothing. Is that almost done?”

Andrés turns and sees the mug is close to overflowing. He turns off the machine and grabs the cup of coffee – if it can even be called that since it’s mostly milk and syrup at this point.

As always, Aethra leads the way, her fluffy tail swishing behind her, her head held high. Martín is still unconscious and Andrés takes a minute to watch him sleep, his eyes screwed shut against the bright July sun, the premature lines around his mouth finally smoothed out a little.

Andrés places the mug on the glass patio table and leans down to shake Martín’s shoulder. His skin is sun-warmed, but not so much that Andrés has to fear putting up with the bitching that usually accompanies sunburn.

“Martín,” he says. “Wake up. Sergio will be here soon.”

Martín’s face scrunches, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Aethra nudges Luca insistently until he yawns, eyes blinking open.

“Huh?” he asks, yawning again and revealing his pointy canines.

“You guys need to get up,” Andrés tells the daemon. “Sergio will be here soon.”

Luca whines, lowering his head back onto Martín’s throat. Aethra nips his side.

“Oh no, don’t go back to sleep. Wake Martín,” she orders and Luca sighs, but starts shuffling further up Martín, sharp little claws digging into his bare skin.

Andrés watches as Luca nuzzles at Martín’s face until the man throws an arm across his eyes, other hand coming up to stroke Luca’s fur.

“What’s wrong, cariño?” Martín mumbles and Luca starts licking his arm.

“Andrés wants you to wake up because Sergio’s coming soon,” Luca says and Martín yawns, sounding exactly like his daemon as he does so.

He sits up, pressing Luca to his skin and blinks when he finally removes his arm from his face. His eyes are a little bloodshot as he tries to focus on Andrés.

“Hi,” Martín eventually mumbles.

Andrés holds out the coffee. “Hello,” he says, a little more sharply than he intended.

Luca slithers out of Martín’s grip, curling up on his lap as Martín reaches for the coffee. He takes a long sip, pleased smile spreading across his face.

“Mm, I love you, thank you,” he says and Andrés’ stomach twists.

“What?” he asks and Martín cracks an eyelid.

“For the coffee,” he says slowly as if Andrés is stupid. “I love you for bringing me coffee.”

“Right,” Andrés says, unsure why he felt the need to question Martín. Aethra sighs and licks Luca’s head.

Andrés sits on one of the chairs, patting his lap so Aethra comes and jumps onto him.

Martín gulps down more of his coffee. “So when is Sergio getting here?”

“Honestly, any minute now,” Andrés says after a glance at his watch.

Martín nods, still stroking Luca. “How is Karo?”

Andrés smiles. “She’s fine, excited about the wedding.”

“I’m sure,” Martín says, but it doesn’t sound particularly sincere which Andrés puts down to the fact that he’s still not sober enough to keep both eyes open simultaneously.

There’s the sound of a door slamming in the house and Martín frowns at Andrés. “Did you give Sergio a key?”

Andrés shakes his head. “Nope.”

Aethra jumps off his lap and trots to the open back door, yipping when Quinn goes swooping over her head. Sergio emerges into the garden moments later, looking rumpled and travel worn.

“Hermanito, I really hope you didn’t break my locks,” Andrés scolds.

Sergio sighs. “I don’t need to break your locks to pick them. You should get better ones by the way.”

“I’ll just get you a key next time,” Andrés says with a shrug, getting up to hug his brother.

Martín stumbles to his feet too, wrapping Sergio in a hug after Andrés lets go of him. Sergio returns it awkwardly and then lets Andrés lead him to the table, taking the seat opposite Andrés’, meaning he’s now sat next to Martín’s head, since the other man has collapsed back onto the lounger.

“Are you alright, Martín?” Sergio asks, Quinn perched on his shoulder and frowning at Martín and Luca as much as a raven can.

Martín nods. “Sure, and Andrés is right, we should get you a key for the house.”

“I don’t think that will be necessary,” Sergio says.

Andrés nods. “True hermanito, I won’t be in this house much longer anyway. But I’ll get you a key for the next one.”

Luca makes a curious noise halfway between a whimper and a snarl and Martín sits up.

“What do you mean? Are you moving?” he asks, eyes narrowed as he stares at Andrés.

Andrés smiles, a little confused. “Well, not until after the wedding, but yes. Karo has always wanted to go to Italy, so we thought we might relocate there once we’re back from the honeymoon.”

Martín says nothing as Luca stretches up to rest his paws on his shoulders and Andrés turns back to Sergio.

“I’m glad you’re here hermanito, Karo can’t wait to meet you,” he says and Sergio looks surprised.

“Really?”

“Really,” Andrés says. “I’ve booked us a table for half seven tonight at Das Zwölf and we’ll meet Karo there.”

Sergio doesn’t look overly enthused, but nods. “Okay, at least I’ll have time to shower this time.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Andrés asks indignantly.

Aethra sniffs. “It means when he met Eliza, you dragged him straight from the airport to the rehearsal dinner.”

“Exactly,” Sergio says, nodding at Aethra as Quinn squawks her agreement.

Andrés shrugs. “You could have caught an earlier flight.”

“You’re the one who changed the rehearsal dinner to a rehearsal lunch at the last minute,” Sergio points out and Andrés laughs.

“Hermanito, I’ve told you before that spontaneity is important.”

“I agree,” Martín says from beside them and Andrés turns to see him with another joint clamped between his lips, hand wavering as he lights it.

“Martín,” Andrés says stiffly. “You’ve only just woken up again, if you smoke that all now, you won’t be awake enough to go to dinner.”

Martín shrugs, getting to his feet and stretching as he exhales a cloud of pungent smoke. “I’m not hungry. And it’s not like I haven’t met Karo anyway.”

With that he starts to wander back to the house, Luca clutched so tightly to his chest Andrés wonders he isn’t complaining of cracked ribs.

“Is he going to smoke that inside?” Sergio asks as Martín and Luca disappear.

Andrés sighs. “Probably.”

“Is he alright?” Sergio asks with a frown.

“Of course,” Andrés says insistently. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

Sergio shakes his head, but drops the subject and starts asking questions about the wedding instead.

-

They don’t get back until late. Andrés is a little disappointed that Karo doesn’t come back with him, but he understands that she has to be at her dance studio very early the next day. He and Sergio had stayed on in the restaurant, finishing the very nice bottle of wine the sommelier had recommended.

Sergio’s more than a little tipsy, muttering something about being glad he doesn’t have to pick the lock this time as Andrés unlocks the front door. Andrés pats his shoulder as Quinn flaps her wings impatiently and swoops into the house ahead of them when he finally gets the door open.

“You know where you’re going, right hermanito?” Andrés asks and Sergio nods.

“Your house isn’t that big, Andrés. Now good night,” Sergio says snidely and stumbles up the stairs.

Aethra sniggers and then looks up at Andrés. “Bed?”

He nods. “Yes, we have a busy day tomorrow.”

He decides to grab a glass of water before he goes to sleep and follows Aethra down the darkened hallway to the kitchen. It’s on his way back, with a glass clutched in one hand, that he notices the light spilling out from under the door of Martín’s office.

He knocks on the door, determined to tell Martín to go to bed. When there’s no answer, he lets himself in, Aethra skittering on the wooden floor behind him.

Martín is once again asleep. He’s slumped forward in his chair, face pressed against his desk, half lying on top of schematics that Andrés can’t even begin to make sense of.

Luca is draped across Martín’s back and looks up when Andrés steps towards them. He watches both Andrés and Aethra suspiciously, paws curled tightly in the back of Martín’s shirt.

“You’re back,” he states cooly and Andrés nods.

As he gets closer, he can see the half empty glass of whiskey on the desk next to Martín’s right hand, the dried tearstains on his blotchy face.

“What happened?” Andrés asks Luca, who just blinks slowly.

“If you’re here, you might as well wake him and take him upstairs,” the daemon eventually says and Andrés clenches his teeth and nods.

Luca moves off Martín and onto the desk, nudging his face against Martín’s as Andrés once again finds himself shaking his shoulder.

Martín wakes much faster this time, jerking away from Andrés’ touch.

“What?” he asks, frowning when he looks at Andrés.

Andrés raises his eyebrows, surprised at the curt tone. “I just wanted to tell you to go sleep in your bed. You’ll mess up your back otherwise.”

Martín studies his face, lips pursed and then nods. He staggers a little as he gets to his feet and Andrés immediately reaches out to steady him.

“You had a few too many tonight, huh?” he says casually, wrapping an arm around Martín.

“I suppose,” Martín mumbles, sagging against him and letting Andrés lead him out of the room and up the stairs.

Aethra and Luca scamper up the steps ahead of them, Aethra’s claws clicking loudly against the marble.

“How was dinner?” Martín asks, the words slurring together a little.

Andrés hums. “Good I suppose. Sergio seemed to enjoy himself. Karo asked after you by the way, I told her you were ill.”

Martín nods. “That’s nice of her.” They stop outside his room and he leans against the door, face turned up towards Andrés, unfocussed eyes on his. “Goodnight,” he says eventually.

“Goodnight Martín,” Andrés says softly.

Martín opens his mouth as if to say something, then shakes his head and opens the door to his room, Luca darting in ahead of him. Martín follows and the door shuts quickly, leaving Andrés feeling like he’s missed something.

“What?” Andrés asks, when he notices Aethra staring at him.

She sighs. “Nothing. Let’s go to bed.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I call this one hurt and lots of comfort and then some fluff at the end
> 
> TWs for disordered eating, depressive behaviour, past injuries

**Edinburgh – 2011**

“You look awful,” is the first thing Andrés says when Martín opens the door to his shitty hotel room.

“Charming,” Luca says from where he’s draped on Martín’s shoulders and Martín leans into the warmth of his fur on the back of his neck.

Andrés smiles at the daemon. “Luca, I’ve missed your impertinence.”

Luca sniffs in response and licks Martín’s cheek. Martín steps aside, letting Andrés into the room and then heads back to his bed.

Luca jumps off his shoulder and burrows under the covers and Martín follows him, the flash of orange fur the last thing he sees before he pulls the blankets over his head. Luca immediately presses against him, one long line of heat along his body.

He can hear Andrés moving around, having a murmured discussion with Aethra. Luca rubs his face against Martín’s neck, his voice soft when he speaks.

“It’s okay, you know,” he says, whispers tickling Martín’s skin. “You’ve done nothing wrong. He left, so you did too. You can have a life without him.”

“Not much of one,” Martín whispers, rolling onto his back with one arm over his eyes to keep the blankets from smothering him completely.

Luca whimpers and crawls onto his chest. Martín briefly wonders how strange it must look to Andrés from outside to see something moving about under the sheets.

“It’s your life, it’s a good life, you’re good and I love you,” Luca says and Martín holds him close with his free arm. He can feel Luca’s purring vibrating through his whole chest and it’s like Martín can breathe again, can pretend it’s just him and Luca in a warm place of their own making, safe from everything that would hurt them.

“Martín?” he hears Andrés call. “Aethra and I are going to get some food. What do you want?”

Martín doesn’t want to eat, doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to talk to Andrés.

“You need to eat,” Luca insists when Martín doesn’t say anything.

“Not hungry.”

Luca sighs and starts wiggling until his head is poking out from the blankets. Martín inhales the cooler air that floods in, trying to ignore what his daemon is saying to Andrés. Luca returns moments later, head resting on Martín’s throat, and his purring resumes at the same time as the room door slams.

“He’s coming back,” Luca reassures him immediately.

Martín sniffs and shuffles the two of them out from under the covers. “I’m sure that’s what he told you.”

Luca presses the feline equivalent of a kiss to his chin. “He left his luggage. He’s coming back.”

“Wouldn’t have thought this hotel is up to his standards.”

“I don’t think he’s here for the amenities.”

Martín sighs and runs a hand down Luca’s back. “Whatever you say, cariño.”

“Do you maybe want to shower?” Luca suggests. “It’ll make you feel better.”

“I’m fine Luca, stop nagging,” Martín grumbles but he clutches him close so he knows he’s not really annoyed. “Let’s just sleep a bit, okay? I’m tired.”

Martín draws the duvet up over them both so everything but their heads are covered and closes his eyes. Luca nuzzles against him and puts his head down too, claws digging into Martín’s chest, just hard enough for him to know his daemon is there.

-

He wakes to find Luca no longer on his chest. Martín sits up, blinking hazily, and sees Luca standing on his hind legs at the end of the bed, talking to Andrés.

“Luca?” he asks and his daemon immediately comes running back to him. Martín gathers him up, shuffling them back against the headboard. “What’s happening, querido?”

“Andrés brought some food, we were just deciding whether to wake you,” Luca says, rubbing his head against Martín’s face.

Martín looks over at Andrés who is standing, still in his coat and hat, with a plastic bag in one hand. “You came back.”

Andrés tilts his head to one side. “You thought I wouldn’t?”

“I know not to expect anything,” Martín says bitterly and Andrés sighs.

“You’re the one who left,” he says, putting the bag of food on the bed and taking off his elegant coat and matching hat.

Martín snorts. “You left first.”

“But you were gone when I came back,” Andrés says seriously.

“I didn’t think you wanted me there. Besides, you can’t expect me to wait forever,” Martín accuses.

“No,” Andrés agrees. “I can’t. But I did expect you to take care of yourself – and from what Luca has told me you haven’t been.”

Martín scowls at Luca who just blinks back at him, unimpressed.

Andrés starts pulling things out of the bag. “So now you’re going to eat and then we’re going to gather your stuff and we’re going to find a decent hotel to stay in.”

“I’m not hungry,” Martín says. He knows from experience that he can’t dissuade Andrés from dragging them to a different hotel but he won’t be force-fed like an obstinate child.

Andrés shrugs and perches at the end of the bed, legs elegantly crossed. “I don’t care. Luca said you haven’t eaten properly in days. So eat what I’m generously calling food so that you don’t pass out on your way to the new hotel.”

“Please?” Luca whimpers and Aethra jumps up onto the bed beside Andrés, turning her vulpine puppy eyes on Martín too.

Martín sighs. “What did you buy?”

“Just a sandwich, some chocolate, apples, biscuits, and one of those weird cans of coffee you like,” Andrés says, looking far too smug for someone who’s just bullied another person into eating.

“It’s not weird,” Martín mumbles. “I’ll have some biscuits, okay?”

“Two biscuits, an apple, and you have three bites of the sandwich too,” Andrés counters smoothly.

Martín scowls and holds out his hand for the food. Andrés pulls a knife from who knows where and starts slicing one of the apples, handing each piece individually to Martín and waiting for him to chew and swallow before he hands him the next.

It’s slow going, the apple is cloyingly sweet and the edges of it too sharp to swallow quickly. But every time he looks like he wants to stop eating, Andrés frowns or Aethra whimpers and Martín forces more down. He gets through the apple bit by bit and then Andrés hands him a limp looking sandwich.

“I know it isn’t like that gnocchi we had in Venice,” Andrés says. “But try and eat it anyway.”

Martín remembers Venice, how they’d spent their evenings walking along the canals and looking for the most hidden gems of restaurants. “Three bites?”

“Three bites,” Andrés repeats.

Martín sighs and starts eating. The sandwich is relatively flavourless and Andrés doesn’t call him out when he only has three very small bites. When Martín puts the sandwich back in its container, Andrés simply replaces it with two ginger biscuits and hands him the can of iced coffee.

“Decaf?” Martín frowns and Andrés lips almost twitch into a smile.

“I thought it would be better.”

“It Is,” Luca chimes in approvingly and Martín rolls his eyes at his mother hen of a daemon.

He makes it through the last of the agreed upon food and then downs the coffee under Andrés and the daemons’ watchful eyes. When he’s done, Andrés throws away the sandwich and empty can, but puts the rest of the food back in the bag.

“Right, let’s get you packed,” Andrés says decisively.

He starts to move about the tiny room, unerringly picking out up every single one of Martín’s belongings and folding it all away into his suitcase.

“I gave you this, didn’t I?” Andrés asks, nudging the case with his foot. Martín nods and Andrés smiles smugly. “I thought so. At least it won’t look out of place in the hotel - I feel like maybe the Caledonian is where we should be.”

“Isn’t that all the way across town?” Martín mumbles as he slides out of bed.

Andrés hands him a shirt and trousers – probably the last clean pair Martín has. “Yes, so get dressed quickly please, I’d like to get there before it’s too late to get a nice suite.”

Martín sighs but does as he’s told, not bothering to ask Andrés to turn around. Andrés frowns when Martín pulls his shirt off.

“You’re too thin,” he says. “I can practically see your ribs.”

Martín shrugs. “Thought I was getting fat?”

Andrés frowns, looking taken aback “I never said that.”

“Vivienne did,” Luca says, kneading the blanket next to Aethra, eyes on Martín as he pulls on his trousers.

“She did?” Andrés asks sharply, as if he was unaware that his last girlfriend with whom he’d up and left for the Bahamas was a bitch.

Aethra huffs. “I told you I didn’t like her.”

“Hm,” Andrés says irritatingly and hands Martín his shoes.

When Martín is finally deemed fully dressed and has made sure Andrés really did pack all of his stuff for him, they leave. Andrés even drops Martín’s key off for him with the receptionist before they step out into the freezing evening air to try and flag down a taxi.

Martín shivers and Luca climbs up him and wraps himself around his neck like a fur collar.

“You just had to go to Scotland in February, didn’t you?” Andrés asks when a black cab finally spots them and stops just up the road from them.

Martín shrugs as he follows Andrés. “Seemed like a good idea at the time.”

The taxi driver has a nearly unintelligible accent, but Martín just lets Andrés do the talking. His English is better anyway.

The Caledonian is an imposing building and Princes Street is busy despite the temperatures when the taxi drops them off. Evidently the Scots don’t mind sub-zero temperatures and biting wind, even on a Sunday night.

Martín hangs back when Andrés goes to enquire about a room. The receptionist is young and definitely not Scottish and Martín distracts himself by trying to place her accent as she talks to Andrés. Her bat daemon hanging off the collar of her shirt as she types on the computer. Andrés is all smiles and Martín just wants to crawl back into the bed Andrés forced him out of.

He’s just decided she's probably Portuguese when Andrés finally hands over a black credit card and accepts a key in return. A concierge appears to take their baggage and escorts them upstairs to their suite.

“Let reception know if you would like to make use of the sofa-bed and they’ll send someone up with extra sheets,” the concierge tells them as he lets them into the room.

“That won’t be necessary, thank you,” Andrés says, waiting for the concierge to put down their luggage and leave before he switches back to Spanish. “This will do nicely, won’t it?”

Aethra yips her agreement, trotting around the seating area. Martín, with Luca still on his shoulders looks around the suite.

“There’s only one bed,” Martín says and Andrés shrugs.

“They didn’t have any double rooms left and I’d like to keep an eye on you for a while.”

“I’m not a child,” Martín says stiffly.

Andrés waves him off. “Of course not. Now, how about we run you a bath. No offense, but you need one.”

Luca sniggers a little, but licks Martín’s cheek affectionately. “I want a bath too.”

“Alright then,” Martín sighs, shedding his coat.

-

The bathtub is admittedly, very nice. What’s a little disconcerting is the way Andrés lounges on the closed toilet while Martín is in said bathtub. The scented bubbles are thick and it’s not like they haven’t seen each other naked before, having lived together off and on for nearly five years now, but there’s something strangely intimate about it. Luca lies against his chest, wet fur making him look thinner than usual.

Andrés talks about what he's been up to for the last few months and Martín almost dozes off, comforted by the sound of his friend’s voice as he recounts the artworks he’d admired when he was in London.

He blinks back into consciousness when Andrés says: “I don’t regret leaving.”

“Huh?” Martín asks, frowning at Andrés. Luca has turned his head to stare at Aethra who is parked on a pile of towels and Martín winces when his claws dig into the skin on his chest.

“I don’t regret leaving you in Marseille.”

“Okay,” Martín says, unsure of what Andrés is trying to do.

Andrés sighs. “But I do regret leaving with Vivienne. She was… unsuitable. And I didn’t enjoy returning to find you gone.”

Martín shrugs, the movement sending ripples through the water.

“No, don’t do that,” Andrés berates him. “Don’t act like it’s nothing. I left and so did you and then I find you here three months later in some dreary hotel looking like you haven’t slept in weeks and strong wind could blow you over.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Martín says, busying his hands with combing through Luca’s fur. “I wasn’t feeling like myself, you know how I get sometimes. But there was nothing to distract me. No heists, no planning, nothing.”

The ‘no you’ goes unsaid and he hopes any wetness in his eyes will be put down to the humidity in the bathroom.

“You could have called,” Andrés says. “Instead of leaving Sergio with an unusable address and disappearing.”

“Would you have come?” Martín asks, somehow finding the courage to meet Andrés’ gaze.

Andrés doesn’t reply, but Aethra does. “We would have. We came now,” she says assuredly.

“Yes,” Martín says, looking at her, sitting upright with her fluffy tail wrapped around her. “I suppose you did.”

* * *

**The Island – 2021**

Andrés looks far too smug as he crosses the beach towards their house, a long parcel tucked under one arm, Aethra trotting along beside him.

Martín didn’t actually see him coming – his peripheral vision is still shot to hell – but Luca told him and when he turns his head and looks at Andrés straight on, he almost sees him clearly.

“What are you grinning about?” Martín asks when Andrés reaches him, taking a seat next to him on the swinging bench.

Andrés leans in to kiss him instead of answering, which admittedly Martín is happy to let him get away with.

“Have you been smoking?” Andrés asks when he pulls away.

Luca shifts so his body is covering the cigarette carton on Martín’s lap just before Aethra looks over at them.

“Of course not, mi amor,” Martín says innocently.

“Liar,” Aethra says with a pointed sniff of his hand and he rubs between her ears making Andrés shiver.

Martín leans in and rests his chin on Andrés shoulder. “So what’s in the box? Because if you’ve ordered more art off the black market I think Sergio might kill you. He twitches every time he sees the Rembrandt in the hallway.”

Andrés laughs and puts the box on Martín’s lap, narrowly avoiding hitting Luca with it. The daemon hisses and drapes himself up along Martín’s chest.

“It’s not from the black market, it’s not art, and it’s not for me,” he assures.

“How very mysterious,” Martín teases.

The box looks plain enough, the brown cardboard refusing to reveal what it contains from the outside. Martín lifts the top half off and lets it fall onto the ground in front of him.

There’s a cane inside the box. It looks like it’s made of darkly stained bamboo, with a polished silver grip and intricate engravings down the length of it.

“Andrés, this…” Martín begins before trailing off. “This is a lot.”

“It’s eighteenth century, genuine bamboo – oh and look at this,” Andrés says, taking the cane out of the box and twisting it at the top. The bamboo parts and Andrés slides the top section upwards to reveal a concealed blade. “I thought you might like it.”

Martín gapes as Andrés hands the cane to him. “I do, but… why?”

Andrés sighs. “Martín, it’s been six months. You’re still in pain and the doctor told you to find a way to alleviate some of the weight you’re putting on your leg.”

“I’m fine,” Martín interrupts and Andrés shakes his head, putting his hand on Martín’s uninjured leg.

“But you aren’t, cariño,” he says. “I know that you don’t want crutches, but the doctor said you’d exacerbate the injury and make it worse if you don’t stop weight bearing so much.”

“And you think the solution is to buy me a ridiculous antique?” Martín snaps.

Aethra growls in warning and Luca tightens his claws in Martín’s shirt.

“Martín,” Andrés says, his voice maddeningly calm and sincere. “I will not watch you try and hide your suffering every time you walk further than from the bed to the bathroom. I tried to come up with a solution that would allow you to remain dignified and still lessen your pain.”

“I can take the pain,” Martín tries again.

Andrés’ hands come up to cup his face. “I know you can. This is not because I don’t think you’re strong, or because I think you can’t handle what happened to you. It’s because I cannot bear to watch you hurt. I never have, and yet I spent years doing so, so let me tell you that I simply won’t watch you force yourself to endure this pain because you think it’s weakness not to.”

Martín doesn’t get a chance to answer because Andrés immediately pulls him into a bruising kiss that leaves him breathless and makes Luca, who gets stuck between them, squeak indignantly.

“I’ve asked you before to not do that,” the daemon huffs as he slides off Martín’s chest and drapes himself across Aethra instead.

Andrés runs a hand across his fur, making him purr and sending flashes of heat through Martín. “I’m sorry querido, but you do have a habit of hanging off Martín’s chest.”

“That’s because it’s comfortable,” Luca whines and Aethra licks his ear.

“I agree,” Andrés says, stroking him again before turning back to Martín. “Please use the cane?”

Martín sighs. “How can I say no after all that?”

Andrés smirks. “I don’t think you can, mi amor. But if you need more persuading I’ve got a few other ideas?”

“Please don’t voice those ideas, there are children present,” someone says from behind them and Martín turns to see Raquel and Paula walking around the side of the house.

“What’s that Tío Martín?” Paula asks, eyes immediately zeroing in on the cane still in his hand.

Martín smiles at her as her daemon changes from a sparrow into a fox cub and darts over to Aethra and Luca.

“It’s a cane, a gift from your Tío Andrés,” he tells her and she nods, her eyes widening as she reaches out to touch the smooth wood.

Raquel raises her eyebrows. “Has he convinced you to use it yet, though?”

Martín sighs. “Yes he has, although I wouldn’t say he played fair.”

“Did you expect him to?” she asks.

“No,” Martín admits and Andrés laughs, throwing an arm around Martín’s shoulders.

“So what can we do for you, hermanita?” Andrés asks.

Raquel smiles and puts a hand on her daughter’s shoulder. “Paula wanted to ask you something.”

Martín looks at her. “And what did you want to ask, princesa?”

She suddenly goes very shy, looking down at her feet and mumbling something.

“It’s okay, you can tell us,” he reassures her.

She looks up at him from under her hair. “I wanted to invite you to lunch with us.”

“Well I suppose we don’t have any plans,” Andrés starts, but is cut off by Martín sharply elbowing him in the ribs.

“We’d love to,” Martín says enthusiastically. “When are you eating?”

Paula smiles widely. “Now,” she says.

“Then let’s get going,” Martín says as Andrés mutters something about short notice.

Paula cheers, her daemon jumping off the ground and changing into some sort of humongous butterfly in mid-air.

Raquel smiles and pats Paula’s head. “Let’s go and set the table then, I’m sure your tíos will be along shortly.”

Paula nods seriously and darts off ahead of Raquel, who exchanges a mock-suffering look with Martín, before following her daughter.

“You’re adorable with her,” Andrés tells him, making both Aethra and Luca snigger.

Martín presses a kiss to his cheek. “I’m always adorable.”

Andrés wraps his arms around Martín’s waist. “Very true unfortunately, it makes life very hard for me.”

Martín raises his eyebrows. "Does it now?"

Andrés groans, pressing his face to Martín’s neck. “I can’t believe you’re turning a sincere moment into innuendo.”

Martín raises his hands defensively. “Who me? I would never, Andrés.”

Andrés snorts. “Sure, just make sure you get all the innuendos out of your system before we get to Raquel and Sergio’s. She’ll gut you if you say something inappropriate in front of Paula.”

“I don’t think I have time to get it all out of my system,” Martín purrs. “So I might have to do it later.”

“I accept that burden,” Andrés says. “But now we really should go or Paula will come back and drag us to lunch.”

Martín disentangles himself from Andrés and gets to his feet. He’s glad it hasn’t rained recently so the ground outside their house is dry and cracked, making it easier to walk on than the soggy mud it turns into when wet.

He makes it three steps away from the bench before Andrés clears his throat loudly.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asks, brandishing the cane and Martín sighs.

“You’re not going to stab me with that, are you?”

Andrés grins. “I’m tempted, but no.” His face softens a little. “If you really don’t like it, I can send it back. I’m just trying to look out for you.”

Martín limps towards him. “I know you are and I’m grateful. And I do like the cane, it’s beautiful and you picked the perfect one.”

Andrés leans down to accept the kiss Martín offers him and then hands him the cane.

“Good, then use it.”

Martín takes the cane and they start to walk towards Sergio and Raquel’s house, Luca and Aethra a few steps behind them. Before they even reach the front garden, Martín can hear Paula chattering excitedly and apparently at the top of her lungs.

He stops Andrés just before he goes into the house.

“Hey,” he says and Andrés looks at him expectantly. “Thank you, it really does help with walking.”

“I’m glad, cariño,” Andrés says, winding an arm around his waist and pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “Now let’s go and save Sergio from his hyper step-daughter.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked it maybe???  
> also shout out to [cityofflights](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cityofflights/pseuds/cityofflights) who makes a mini appearance as promised (sorry i couldn't figure out a way to work it in but the bat daemon's name is Rafi) go and read her stuff!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for recreational drug use, canon-typical slurs

**Amsterdam – 2008**

Andrés stops dead in the doorway to Martín’s kitchen, blinking at the sight in front of him. Martín is slumped back in his chair, what looks like a lit joint in his hand and Luca on his lap. Neither of those things are at all unusual, what has Andrés entirely dumbfounded, however, is the fact that his little brother is sat opposite Martín – and by the looks of him, is high as a kite.

“There’s no way that’s true,” Sergio says, letting out an extremely uncharacteristic giggle.

On the table in front of him, Quinn flaps her wings and nearly knocks the ashtray off the table, sending both Sergio and Martín into peals of helpless laughter.

“What exactly is going on here?” Andrés asks, walking further into the room, Aethra pattering ahead of him.

“Andrés,” Martín says with a lazy smile. “You never said your baby brother is so much fun.”

Sergio takes the joint Martín hands him with a frown. “Aren’t you younger than me?”

“He is,” Andrés says at the same time as Luca, which just sends the Martín into hysterics again.

He strokes Luca’s head, thumb easily finding the dips behind his ears. “Cariño, don’t agree with him, you’re supposed to be on my side.”

Luca just purrs, rubbing his head under Martín’s chin and even after close to eight months, Andrés is still astounded by the open and easy affection between the man and his daemon. He loves Aethra, but he would never act that way even in front of Sergio and Quinn.

“Well I’m glad one of you is being sensible,” Andrés chastises, shrugging out of his sport coat and taking a seat at the table.

Aethra hops up onto the seat between him and Martín, immediately nuzzling at Luca, who turns away from Martín. The fondness his daemon holds for Martín’s is another thing Andrés has slowly been getting used to since they left Berlin together. Aethra has never interacted this much with another daemon – not even Quinn – and while at the beginning he was suspicious, Aethra has managed to convince him to keep both Martín and Luca around.

“So, what, I go out for the evening and you decide to corrupt my hermanito?” he asks and Martín rolls his eyes.

Luca even looks up from where he’s grooming Aethra and gives Andrés a pointed look that a jaguarundi really shouldn’t be capable of. Across the table, Quinn pecks at Sergio’s fingers until he hands the joint back to Martín.

“It wasn’t his fault,” Sergio mutters. “It was my idea.”

Martín nods. “We got bored of the numbers, and Sergio wanted to try it. I thought it would be better if he does it here where Luca and I can keep an eye on him, than going out and overdoing it with the edibles in a café.”

Andrés sighs when Aethra nips at his wrist and he strokes her head placatingly. “Hand me that, would you?”

Martín hands over the joint with a wicked smile that reminds Andrés of their first heist in Berlin and Andrés takes a slow drag. Sergio is staring off into space so he doesn’t notice the way Andrés does, that Martín’s gaze lingers just a little too long on Andrés.

“So, what numbers were you looking at?” Andrés asks, startling Sergio out of his musings.

He blinks at Andrés, looking for all the world like he’s only just woken up. “Oh, um, for a heist.”

Andrés leans back in his chair and returns the joint to Martín, ignoring Sergio when he reaches for it. “A heist? This is the first I’m hearing of it.”

“That,” Martín says nonchalantly. “Is because it’s purely hypothetical.”

“Hypothetical?” Andrés repeats.

“It means something that isn’t necessarily true or real,” Luca pipes up and Andrés could swear the daemon is grinning.

Sergio snorts unflatteringly, but Martín flushes, holding a hand over Luca’s face.

“Don’t be facetious, querido. He knows what it means,” he hisses at the daemon. “You’re being rude.”

Andrés waves him off. “It’s fine, Martín. Just tell me what this hypothetical heist is.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Sergio interjects hazily. “It’s completely impossible.”

“No, it isn’t,” Martín scowls.

Sergio sighs. “I’m not going over this with you again. You can’t possibly think you have a shot at pulling this off.”

“Pulling what off?” Andrés asks impatiently.

“Martín wants to rob the Bank of Spain,” Sergio says. “Specifically, he wants to steal the ninety tonnes of gold inside the bank – and I’ve already told him, it’s impossible.”

“Maybe for you,” Luca snipes, making Quinn squawk at him.

“For anyone,” Sergio counters.

Andrés contemplates Martín who has both hands buried in Luca’s fur. “You think you can do it?”

Martín and Luca both look over at him. When Martín hesitates, Luca answers for him.

“He can,” the daemon says. “It’ll take time, but he’ll figure it out.”

Sergio starts to protest, but Andrés cuts him off.

“Forget about how – why do you want to do it?”

Martín exchanges a look with Luca. “To see if we can.”

He trails off hesitantly and Andrés frowns. “And what else?”

“Think of the statement,” Luca says quietly and Martín nods, dropping a kiss onto the fur between the daemon’s ears.

“The statement of ninety tonnes of gold being taken by a sudaca from Argentina,” Martín says, his eyes wide. “That gold was plundered, stolen, drenched in South American blood and we’re going to take it back.”

“But you don’t know how to take it!” Sergio insists.

Martín ignores him, eyes still fixed on Andrés.

Andrés smiles slowly. “I like it. It would be… the most spectacular heist ever seen.”

“Oh god,” Sergio groans. “Not you too.”

“Martín is right, hermanito. A heist like this, it has soul, passion.”

“And gold,” Martín adds and Andrés throws him a smile, which he returns.

“Yes,” Andrés says. “And gold.”

“Andrés, you can’t seriously be considering this?” Sergio asks incredulously.

Aethra huffs. “Oh he is… money is dirty, but diamonds and gold –”

“They’re classy, beautiful, universal,” Andrés finishes for her.

He can practically see the ingots before him as he takes another drag of the joint. When he looks at Martín, he knows he’s seeing the same thing.

“It will take a while, to figure out the details of getting the gold out, let alone the security and how to get in and out of the bank,” Martín says and Andrés grins at him, ignoring how Sergio rolls his eyes.

“Well, I don’t think that matters, Martín,” he says, stroking Aethra. “Even if it takes years – we have nothing but time.”

* * *

**Manila – 2020**

Andrés makes sure Martín is securely seated on the table in the examination room before he takes his crutches off him. Luca is once again hanging from the collar of his shirt and Martín has both arms wrapped around his daemon. The cuts around his eyes and across his nose have started to heal, pink lines on otherwise smooth, tanned skin.

Andrés settles in a chair near him, patting his knee and Aethra jumps up to curl up on his lap.

Martín scowls, hands curling in Luca’s fur. “I still don’t know why we’re here.”

“Because, mi amor,” Andrés says sternly. “It’s been eight weeks since you had that bullet taken out and there has been little to no improvement.”

“Just because you’re up and about again, doesn’t mean I have to be too!” Martín argues and Aethra noses at Andrés chest, whining a little.

Andrés strokes her head, catching Martín’s guilty look. “I’m just worried, Martín. You’re in constant pain.”

Martín sighs. “I’m just tired of doctors.”

Andrés looks at Martín, unable to ignore how tired and worn out he seems. His face is drawn and there are deep circles under his eyes. “I know you are, cariño, but this is no way to live.”

“He’s right,” Luca says, rubbing his head against the stubble on Martín’s chin.

Martín looks like he’s about to argue with his daemon when the door opens and the doctor walks in. Her dark hair is tied back in a ponytail and her red fox daemon is trotting by her side.

“Señor Berrote?” she asks, holding out her hand to Martín. “I’m Dr Garcia, I understand you’re here about your leg.”

Martín shrugs. “It’s fine.”

“No, it isn’t,” Andrés says at the same time as Luca and Aethra.

Dr Garcia raises an eyebrow. “Seems like you’re outnumbered. Now, I see from your medical history that you were shot and the bullet didn't come out immediately, were there any complications with the removal surgery?”

Andrés thinks of Helsinki’s hands, slick with Martín’s blood as he tried to remove the bullet.

“I don’t think so,” Martín says. “The bullet didn’t fragment and it didn’t hit any arteries.”

Andrés clears his throat and Dr Garcia looks over at him. Her daemon is staring at Aethra and Andrés wonders whether they have any recognition of being a similar species.

“We saw a doctor, before we… arrived here in the Philippines, he said that there was some muscle damage.”

Martín scowls, as if Andrés has revealed his deepest secret. Dr Garcia nods, turning to the computer and clicking until she can pull up some images.

“Based on your MRI, I’d be inclined to agree. Unfortunately, all I can do is recommend that you stay off the leg and seek out physiotherapy. I can also prescribe a mild opioid to help with the immediate pain relief – you said on the phone that you haven’t been sleeping?” Dr Garcia says and Andrés looks at Martín pointedly.

Both he and Luca had consistently told Martín that he wasn’t supposed to be weight-bearing, but being the stubborn ox that he is, Martín avoids using his crutches as much as possible – especially around the rest of the gang.

“Yeah, I guess,” Martín sighs. “It just… it really hurts.”

She nods. “Okay, I’ll prescribe you some oxycodone, about a week’s worth. After that you can go to your general physician and ask for another prescription if you need it.”

“We’ll do that,” Andrés says, already trying to figure out which of their contacts is most likely to be able to deliver pills.

“Um, you’re a doctor that treats daemons too, right?” Martín asks when Dr Garcia finishes scribbling on her notepad. He waits for her to nod before he continues. “I know it’s not what the appointment is for but could you take a look at Luca?”

“Sure,” Dr Garcia says. “What’s the issue – is it a bond thing or something else?”

Martín strokes a hand down Luca’s back. “He was injured just before I was and then… manhandled. His shoulder still aches sometimes, so I just want to make sure he’s okay.”

Dr Garcia gestures at the space next to Martín on the examination table. “Can you get Luca to lie down? I’ll have Kidlat take a look at him.”

Martín reluctantly detaches Luca from the front of his shirt and nudges him until he stretches out next to him, body taking up almost the length of the table. The doctor’s fox daemon, Kidlat, jumps up next to Luca and Andrés frowns when Aethra bristles and slides off his lap.

She skitters across the floor and leaps up onto the table, wedging herself against Martín’s thigh. Warmth sparks down Andrés’ spine when Martín strokes Aethra and he ignores Dr Garcia’s raised eyebrows.

“Where and how was Luca injured?” she asks.

“Here,” Martín strokes Luca’s shoulder. “We were both near some glass that shattered and he ended up with a shard in his shoulder. Andrés removed it and stitched it up, but it still bothers him sometimes.”

When Martín pulls his hand away, Kidlat noses at Luca’s shoulder, paws framing his upper body. Aethra makes a disapproving noise and Martín rubs her ears.

“It’s healed well, the scarring isn’t too deep,” Kidlat says quietly. “There’s no reason for it to still be sore.”

Dr Garcia nods. “It could be psychosomatic. Especially if you’re in a lot of pain, Señor Berrote. In which case, the painkillers should help you both. If it continues to trouble him, you should see a specialist.”

“I will, thank you,” Martín says.

Kidlat shuffles away from Luca who immediately crawls back into Martín’s lap. Aethra licks at his face until he squirms and Martín laughs at the two of them.

“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Dr Garcia asks, looking faintly amused at the daemons’ antics.

Martín shakes his head and takes the prescription she hands him. “Thank you for your help, doctor.”

“Of course,” she says shaking his hand and then doing the same to Andrés when he gets to his feet.

“We appreciate it,” Andrés says and Dr Garcia smiles.

He hands Martín his crutches and swaps them for the prescription. Luca climbs up onto Martín’s shoulders pressing his face to Martín’s neck in what Andrés learned long ago is the equivalent of a kiss. Aethra hops off the table and joins Andrés as they walk to the door. On their way past the desk, Andrés glances down at the doctor’s notes and finds his own face staring back at him. It’s just a tiny sketch at the side of the notes, next to what he recognises as a doodle of Luca’s paws, hooked into Martín’s shirt.

“Those are good,” he says when Doctor Garcia catches him looking.

“Uh, thank you,” she says, slightly embarrassed and he flashes her a smile before following Martín out of the room.

-

It’s late by the time they get back to the island and Andrés can tell Martín is flagging – mostly because Luca is clingier than usual. Denver and Nairobi are on the beach when they dock the boat and Portia squawks a greeting, swooping over their heads. Thankfully, neither of them get up from where they’re sat on the sand, just nodding when Andrés and Martín go past.

When they get back to the house, Martín collapses onto the sofa, with Luca on his chest and Aethra resting her head on his uninjured leg.

“Do you want food, cariño?” Andrés asks, wedging himself in next to Martín and running a hand across Luca’s fur.

Martín shakes his head, slouching against Andrés’ side. “Not really.”

Andrés kisses his cheek. “Alright, then take one of the pills and we’ll go to sleep.”

“Sure,” Martín says with a yawn. “But I’m not moving.”

“Neither am I,” Aethra agrees.

Andrés exchanges a look with Luca. “Well unfortunately, I can only carry one of you to bed, so unless you want me to go and get Helsinki, you’re going to have to get up.”

Aethra groans, rolling onto her back between him and Martín. Andrés rubs her stomach and her tongue lolls out.

“Your daemon’s a tart,” Martín says fondly.

“Oh I know,” Andrés says. “She’s terribly spoiled, but then again, so are you.”

Martín pokes him in the ribs. “Rude.”

“Notice you’re not denying it.”

“Hush and help me up so we can go to bed.”

“See,” Andrés says, getting to his feet, Aethra tucked under one arm. “You’re spoiled.”

He pulls Martín into a standing position, wrapping an arm around his waist. They make their way to the bedroom, although it’s slow going, mostly due to Aethra squirming so she can nuzzle Luca who is draped around Martín’s shoulders.

Once in the bedroom, they undress and then Andrés helps Martín into bed and makes him take his painkillers. When Andrés slides in next to him, Luca – instead of curling up on the ottoman with Aethra – worms his way between them. He presses his face to Martín’s neck, claws hooked in his shirt, back wedged against Andrés’ chest.

“He’s worried,” Aethra says from the end of the bed.

Martín’s eyes have already slid shut, eyelids fluttering a little, his breaths deepening.

“He doesn’t like doctors,” Luca says, his voice quiet and Martín twitches when his whiskers tickle him. “His father was a doctor.”

Andrés nods, draping an arm across Martín and Luca. “I know. We had to go though.”

Luca nods his agreement. “Thank you for taking him.”

“Of course, cariño,” Andrés says, rubbing the daemon’s ears.

Martín smiles in his sleep and Andrés kisses his forehead.

“Good night.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to [@marirable](https://twitter.com/marirable) for the idea about why martín wants to rob the bank & to [@thorined](https://twitter.com/thorined) for the use of her medical knowledge and the name ideas (the doctor with the fox daemon is definitely not supposed to be you ;) )


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> very short chapter of domestic fluff, feat Paula!

**The Island – 2021**

“Please!”

The word is drawn out into long, endless syllables as Paula stares up at him with the biggest puppy eyes Martín has ever seen. In her arms, Rafael turns into a bulldog puppy to match and stares at him too. Martín exchanges a glance with Luca who is lying on the kitchen counter and sighs.

“Fine,” he relents and Paula grins up at him. “But if your mother asks, you had porridge and fruit for breakfast.”

“If you put blueberries in the pancakes, it’s only half a lie,” Luca says with a feline grin and Martín scowls.

“You’re a terrible influence, cariño,” he tells his daemon, before he turns to Paula. “Princesa, please ignore everything this rat says.”

Paula pouts, putting Rafael onto the breakfast bar so he can scamper over to Luca. “But Luca is such a cool daemon.”

“He’s alright,” Martín says with a shrug.

Luca hisses and launches himself off the work surface to climb up Martín’s back. He drapes himself along Martín’s shoulders, head nuzzling at his face.

“Take it back,” he says, whiskers tickling Martín.

Martín smirks. “Stop putting terrible ideas in Paulita’s head and I’ll consider it.”

Luca whines and starts licking Martín’s cheek. Martín ignores him, limping over to the fridge and pulling out eggs and milk – and blueberries.

“Martín,” Luca whimpers. “Say that I’m better than alright.”

“Shan’t,” Martín says, just to wind him up further.

Luca’s claws dig into Martín’s shoulder, not enough to draw blood, but Martín draws in a sharp breath anyway.

“Now I really won’t say it,” he complains.

Luca lets out a plaintive cry – completely fake of course – and Martín rolls his eyes. Paula giggles.

“You’re a drama queen,” she says.

“Which one of them?” Andrés asks, walking into the kitchen in a robe and the silk pyjamas Raquel got him last Christmas, Martín’s cane in his hand.

Aethra taps into the room just after him, eyes narrowed. “Luca,” she answers immediately.

Martín grins at her. “Got it in one, querida.”

“Andrés,” Luca says, his voice soft. “Martín is being mean to me.”

Andrés raises his eyebrows. “Is that so? What did you do to make him act like that?”

“Nothing!”

“Why don’t I believe you?”

"I don't know, I've never done anything wrong."

Luca stretches out towards Andrés who sighs and, when Martín nods his assent, hands off the cane and picks Luca up off Martín’s shoulders. Andrés holds him against his chest with one hand and rubs his furry head with the other.

Martín shivers at the flood of warmth and exchanges a smile with Andrés, who suddenly scowls and looks down.

“Luca, por favor, can you not shred my robe? It was expensive!”

If Luca could shrug, Martín knows he would. “You have the money for another one. Now tell Martín to be nice to me!”

“Martín, for the sake of my robe and the love you hold for me, please reconcile with your overdramatic daemon,” Andrés says.

Martín laughs. “Alright, alright. You’re the best part of me, now stop being a baby, cariño.”

Luca twists in Andrés’ arms and throws himself at Martín, who had expected this and catches him, tucking him under one arm. Luca immediately presses his head under Martín’s chin, purring like a little engine.

“Ridiculous,” Andrés mutters, taking a seat at the table and picking up Aethra to put her on his lap.

Martín ignores him and puts Luca back on the counter so he can finally start making breakfast. Paula, seeing that he’s busy, goes to sit with Andrés and immediately launches into a long explanation about the show she’s currently watching. Martín exchanges a look with Luca and they both hide their laughter at Andrés’ entirely bewildered expression as he tries to follow what Paula is saying.

Thankfully, it keeps her entertained enough that Martín can make the pancakes in peace. The biggest distraction turns out to be Luca, who keeps trying to steal blueberries out of the bowl before Martín can put them in the batter.

“Stop that,” Martín chastises, tapping his nose. “Make yourself useful and go turn on the coffee machine, I’ve already set everything up.”

Luca mutters something rude under his breath, but does as he’s asked, walking along the counter to the coffee machine, where he presses the ‘start’ button with a careful paw.

“Thank you, mi amor,” Martín says when he returns, kissing the top of his head.

Luca grumbles, but he purrs anyway, unable to pretend he doesn’t enjoy it.

When they finally sit down to breakfast, Andrés and Martín with cups of coffee and Paula with a glass of milk, Martín has to nudge Aethra out of his seat and Paula frowns.

“You touch each other’s daemons a lot,” she says.

Andrés takes a sip of his coffee. “Paula, you know your Tío Martín and I are together.”

Paula rolls her eyes. “Of course I do,” she says around a mouthful of pancake.

“Then why are you confused, princesa?” Martín asks, batting Luca’s thieving paw away from his plate.

“Well no one else does it as much as you two,” she says, her brow furrowed. “Mama and Sergio only touch Deunoro and Quinn sometimes, but they don’t pick them up. And I’ve never seen Bogota and Nairobi do it.”

Andrés shrugs. “It’s personal preference, I suppose. First of all, none of them have known each other as long as Tío Martín and I have.”

“And their daemons aren’t quite as… attached to each other yet,” Martín says, thinking of how unbearably close Aethra and Luca were, even when he and Andrés weren’t speaking.

"I don't want anyone else to touch Rafael," Paula says decisively.

Martín nods. "That's as it should be, querida."

He’s suddenly distracted by Andrés hissing Luca’s name and pushing him away from his pancakes. Paula laughs delightedly and feeds Rafael from her plate.

“Great, now you’re teaching your bad habits to Paula and Rafael!” Martín gripes, picking Luca up off the table. “Sit still and you can have some pancakes in a minute.”

Luca kneads Martín’s thighs with his paws, looking far too smug. “Thank you.”

From her spot on the free chair, Aethra sighs. “I don’t know why you don’t just ask for food. Neither of them will say no to you.”

“She’s right, cariño,” Andrés says. “While I don’t appreciate your thievery, I’d have given you some if you asked.”

Martín feeds Luca a large piece of pancake, then strokes his head. “He likes the challenge.”

“He’s right,” Luca agrees, as he dips one of his paws into the syrup puddled on Martín’s plate and then proceeds to lick it off.

“Can Rafael and I go watch TV?” Paula asks, clearly already bored with the conversation.

“Of course, princesa,” Martín tells her and she runs off, Rafael swooping ahead of her, having turned into a crow.

Martín returns to his breakfast, giving every third bite to Luca. When he’s sure Paula is distracted by the TV, he turns to Andrés who has cleared their plates and is putting them in the dishwasher.

“Do you think it’s weird?” he asks.

“Hmm?” Andrés asks absentmindedly, placing the mugs in the top rack and closing the door.

Martín gets to his feet, grabbing his cane and walking over to where Andrés is leaning against the breakfast bar. Andrés immediately reaches for him, arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him close.

“Do you think it’s weird how much we touch each other’s daemons?” Martín asks, voice pitched low so Paula doesn’t hear. “I never thought about it before, but… the others really don’t do it as much.”

Andrés shakes his head. “No,” he says immediately. “I don’t think it’s weird. Unique maybe, extraordinary, it’s a sign of how much we care for each other. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Me either,” Aethra chimes in from where she’s sat on the floor next to Luca.

Martín smiles down at them and then lets Andrés reel him in for a kiss – although he keeps it brief since Paula is just around the corner.

“Let’s go sit with Paula,” Andrés suggests. “I think I remember what the plot of that show is – enough to explain it to you at least.”

Martín smirks. “I don’t think it’ll be that hard to follow, it’s for kids, cariño.”

Andrés scowls and starts leading him to the sofa. Paula is on the beanbag that Martín had bought for her despite Andrés’ protests. Rafael, now in the form of a tabby cat, is draped over her feet.

Andrés settles in the corner of the sofa and tucks Martín in under his arm. Aethra hops up beside Martín, crawling across his lap to lie on Andrés’. Luca follows suit, curling up on Martín’s legs, with his head resting on top of Aethra’s back.

“Comfortable, are we?” Martín asks the two of them and Aethra just yawns in response.

Andrés laughs and runs a hand over both her and Luca.

“Tío Andrés look, that’s the one I was telling you about. He’s my favourite,” Paula says, pointing at the TV screen where a cartoon child with blue arrows on his hands and head, is flying through the air.

“Oh yes, I remember,” Andrés tells her, before throwing Martín a look that tells him, he has no idea what’s going on.

Martín smothers his laugh in Andrés’ shoulder and settles in for a morning of cartoons.

-

Raquel and Sergio don’t get back until late. So late that Martín has already put Paula to bed, meaning that she and Rafael are curled up in the their king-sized guest bed, looking incredibly small.

“How was she?” Raquel asks, when Martín takes her to check on Paula.

“Fine of course,” he says, readjusting his grip on Luca, who is once again insisting on hanging from his shirt collar.

Raquel smiles, sticking her head into the guest room and finding, as Martín knew she would, Paula fast asleep. “Well, thank you for looking after her, I know it’s probably not what you had planned for your weekend.”

Martín waves a hand dismissively as she closes the door again. “Don’t worry about it. How’s your mother?”

“Better now,” Raquel sighs. “She’ll have to stay in hospital for another week or so and then we can bring her home.”

Martín nods. “I’m glad.”

They return to the living room where Sergio and Andrés are sat, finishing the wine Martín opened earlier. Raquel throws Martín a long-suffering look and joins Sergio on the loveseat, Deunoro perching behind them with Quinn.

Martín, having forgotten his cane when he took Raquel to see Paula, limps more slowly over to the sofa. Andrés looks at him disapprovingly, but readily hands him his refreshed wineglass when he sits down.

“I was just saying to Sergio, that if he and Raquel want, Paula can stay here tonight,” Andrés explains, sliding a hand onto Martín’s knee. “No point in waking her up.”

Martín nods and Raquel sighs, leaning into Sergio’s side.

“That might be best,” she says. “If you guys don’t mind.”

“We did offer,” Andrés says and Martín pinches him.

Sergio rolls his eyes, but nods. “Thank you.”

Martín shrugs. “No problem, just come by tomorrow morning and we can have breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” Raquel asks with a teasing smirk. “You're quite the homemaker for someone who claims to not like families.”

“Shut up,” Martín says half-heartedly and she laughs.

Sergio gets to his feet, pulling Raquel up with him. “We’ll see you both tomorrow then.”

Andrés nods. “You can just let yourselves out. See you tomorrow, hermanito.”

Sergio and Raquel leave, and when he hears the front door shutting, Martín gets up too.

“Come on, bed,” he says, holding out his hand.

Once he’s on his feet, Andrés takes it. Luca jumps down off Martín’s chest, scampering ahead with Aethra. By the time Andrés and Martín get to the bedroom, the two daemons are already curled up on the ottoman at the end of the bed.

Since they’re already in their pyjamas, they immediately climb into bed. When Martín winces one too many times while he settles, Andrés shuffles down the bed and starts rubbing his leg for him. Martín sighs, relaxing back into his pillows while Andrés massages his aching muscles.

“You keep that up, and you’re going to put me right to sleep.”

Andrés laughs. “That’s sort of the point, mi amor.”

Martín smiles lazily. “Yeah? You don’t need a reward?”

“No,” Andrés replies. “Not when Paula is next door, anyway.”

“Good point,” Martín says and Andrés smirks. Martín pats the space next to him. “Come back here, my leg feels better now.”

Andrés does, moving back up towards him and pulling the covers over both of them. At the end of the bed, Luca raises his head to look at them, before settling back down with Aethra. Martín rolls onto his side, wrapping his arms around Andrés, who pulls him close, resting his chin on Martín’s head.

“You’re making breakfast tomorrow,” Martín mumbles and Andrés laughs.

“Whatever you want, cariño – just tell Luca to keep his paws away.”

“Tell him yourself.”

"Martín, you know he doesn't listen to me."

"He doesn't listen to anyone, now sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you liked this, even though it was a bit shorter than usual! fair warning, the next chapter is going to be angstier.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWs for homophobia, canon suicidal actions (just andrés in the mint being a dumbass)

**Barcelona – 1998**

Martín is making dinner – or attempting to – when someone bangs on the door of his shabby apartment. Luca jumps off the counter where he’d been poaching bits of Martín’s ingredients and lands safely in Martín’s arms, clinging to the front of his grubby shirt.

“Expecting anyone?” Luca asks and Martín shakes his head.

“You know I’m not.”

Luca nudges him comfortingly as Martín crosses the negligible distance between the tiny kitchen and the front door of the apartment. He pulls it open to find his landlady, a short, greying woman with a very nosy terrier daemon waiting in the hall.

“Señora Martinez,” he says, blinking in surprise. “Is everything alright? Did your TV break again?”

She shakes her head. “No, Martín. It works fine, thank you again for your help.”

Martín squints at her. “Then can I ask why you’re here? It’s late.”

“You remember when I offered to let you rent this apartment, that there were certain rules?” she asks, pursing her lips.

“Yes,” Martín nods. “But I haven’t had the radio or TV on after ten and I haven’t had any girls over.”

Luca sniggers and Martín puts a warning hand on his back. Señora Martinez sniffs.

“I am very aware that you haven’t had any women here, Martín,” she says and something sick settles in his stomach as she eyes Luca. “Just as it has come to my attention that your daemon is not in fact a girl.”

“Señora –” he starts, but she holds up a hand to silence him.

“No,” she says. “It is a sin. I can’t have someone… like you, living under my roof. It isn’t right. Since you’ve been a good tenant you can have until noon tomorrow to leave.”

Martín gapes at her, ashamed of the tears that spring to his eyes. “Are you serious? I have nowhere to go. Please, señora, it’s not my fault Luca and I were born like this.”

Señora Martinez sighs but shakes her head. “I’m sorry. Leave your key on the counter when you go.”

She turns and walks away, leaving a stunned Martín in the doorway to listen to her making her way down the creaking back stairs. A gentle nip from Luca shakes him out of his shock.

“Fuck,” he swears, slamming the door so hard that it rattles in its frame. “Fuck, Luca, what are we going to do? I’ve already given her the rent money and I don’t get paid for another three weeks.”

Luca whines and nuzzles his cheek. “I don’t know, Martín. We could go back to the shelter?”

“No!” Martín says vehemently. “We can’t go there, Luca. If anyone finds out that you’re not a girl, it will be the same thing as here, but we won’t just get kicked out. It was dangerous enough the first time.”

“Okay, okay,” Luca says, purring in a poor attempt at comfort, the vibrations reverberating in Martín’s chest. “How much money have we got?”

Martín walks to the kitchen cupboard and pulls down the coffee tin he stashes any extra cash in – not that they often have extra. He pulls off the lid and tips the contents out onto the counter. Luca slides from his shoulders to paw at the paltry collection of coins and crumpled notes.

“Sixty-three euros,” Martín says forlornly.

“It’s enough,” Luca insists. “We can go to a hostel, that will do for a couple of nights while we make some money.”

Martín sinks onto the floor, opening his arms for Luca who jumps off the counter and curls into him. “How are we going to make money fast? We’re not thirteen anymore, we can’t just pickpocket or sing in the street.”

“We’ll find a way,” Luca assures him. “I won’t let anything bad happen to us. If we have to, we’ll just become bank robbers or something.

Martín sniffs, hiding his laugh in Luca’s fur. “What would I do without you, mi amor?”

“No point asking, because it’s not an option. We’ll never be apart.”

“Never,” Martín promises, kissing his head. “Come on then, let’s start packing. We can do better than this shithole.”

“You’re damn right we can,” Luca says and leaps up onto the counter, deliberately swiping a couple of plates off the draining board and into the sink where they shatter. “Señora Martinez has horrible taste in crockery,” he says when Martín throws him a look.

“You’re a rat,” Martín says but his voice is overly fond and he immediately gathers Luca up into his arms. “We’ll be okay, won’t we?”

“We will. One day we’ll be millionaires and we won’t even remember this time.”

* * *

**Madrid – 2016**

Aethra is grey. Sort of. Her usually impeccable, perfectly unblemished white fur is coated in a thick layer of dust that inevitably settles everywhere when members of your gang have been digging a tunnel out of the mint you’re robbing.

It doesn’t seem right to see her like this and Andrés wishes he had the time to wash her, deep-condition her fur, dry it until she’s fluffy and flawlessly alabaster again. She looks up at him, dark gaze meeting his unwaveringly, as it always has for all his life. Whenever he’s looked for her, she’s been there.

She doesn’t ask if he’s certain. He’s made up his mind and she is the only person who has ever respected him enough not to question why he needs to die with dignity.

“Ready?” he asks her, shouldering his gun.

She blinks, tongue lolling out as she pants, the only sign that she’s as stressed as he feels. “I’ll miss you.”

He bites his lip, swallowing the sob that threatens to escape him, and nods. “I love you.”

“I know,” she says. “Shall we?”

“After you, mi amor,” he says. Together they step away from the vault and the tunnel that Helsinki had just dragged Nairobi down, the one that leads to where his brother is waiting for him.

-

“Aethra?” he asks as he’s feeding ammo into the Browning. She nudges his hand with her snout to let him know she’s listening. “Am I doing the right thing?”

“I’m with you always,” she says, shifting closer until she's half in his lap. “But I’ll miss you. And Sergio. I’ve missed Martín and Luca for years. I don’t want you to miss anything”

Andrés squeezes his eyes shut, dropping the ammo and reaching blindly for Aethra who crawls into his arms without hesitation. “You know I’m dying anyway. Like Mama. It’s… messy. Undignified. Shameful. Unworthy. Is it how you want our story to end?”

He can hear Sergio in his earpiece, begging him not to do this. Helsinki must have told him. He tears out the earpiece and throws it to the ground, opens his eyes to see Aethra staring right at him.

“You’re not dead yet,” she says. “Not yet. We can still change things. Change the story.”

“I don’t know what to do,” he admits. “I’m scared Aethra, I don’t want to waste away, become some disgusting, drooling mess that everyone pities.”

Aethra whines and licks his chin, before pressing her face into his neck, as close as she can possibly get to him. “I’d love you anyway.”

He kisses the top of her head. “I know, mi amor, I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

Aethra opens her mouth to speak, then freezes, ears twitching. “They’re coming.”

He buries both hands in her fur as the faint sound of boots on stairs reach them.

“What do you want to do?” Aethra whispers. “Are we staying or going?”

Andrés shakes his head, chest tight. “I don’t know, I – how is this something I can decide. To end my life now or commit to a life of dying?”

“It’s still a life,” Aethra counters. “A life with me, a life with Sergio… with Martín.”

“Pah, he never wants to see me again,” Andrés says.

Aethra huffs. “And you’ll never see him again if we stay.”

The footsteps get louder and Andrés freezes.

“Last chance,” Aethra says. “Now or never.”

And Andrés… he can’t move, it’s like his muscles have seized up the way they will when his disease finally takes over.

“Andrés!” Aethra hisses, but he still can’t move.

Then there’s sharp, hot pain blossoming through his arm and when he looks down he sees Aethra with her jaws locked around his arm, teeth puncturing the fabric of his jumpsuit as easily as they do his skin. Thick splotches of blood bloom and grow, staining his sleeve an even darker red.

Aethra lets go of his arm, her snout speckled with pink. “You’re still alive, Andrés, do you want to stay that way?” she demands and he nods.

“Yes.” His voice is embarrassingly thin as he nods his head frantically. “Yes.”

“Then let’s go!”

And they’re running, away from the boots worn by men with guns that he was ready to let kill him – as if any of them were worthy of ending the life of Andrés de Fonollosa. Aethra darts ahead as Andrés stops to pull a grenade from his pocket and launches it down the hallway the police will have to come through.

“Andrés!” she yells and he sprints after her, tripping over his own feet as he skids into the vault.

Aethra hovers by the tunnel, waiting for him and he picks her up, shoving her down the front of his jumpsuit so he can climb into the hole with both hands free. He can hear noises behind him and he’s never moved so fast in his life, hoping that his brother hasn’t given up on him, that someone will still be waiting there to help him.

When he makes it far enough that he can hear sounds coming towards him, he starts to shout.

“Sergio!” His voice echoes, but he can’t hear a reply so he tries again, Aethra joining his attempt. “Sergio,” they yell. “Wait for us, we’re coming!”

He can’t hear anything except the sound of his own pulse beating a deafening rhythm in his ears, but then he sees light, the other end of the tunnel and there’s his little brother. Sergio’s face is tearstained like he’s been crying, like he was crying for Andrés. Quinn swoops ahead of Sergio, circling Andrés and Aethra before returning.

When he finally reaches his little brother, Andrés’ legs almost give out, but Sergio is there to catch him, one arm wrapping around him and dragging him out of the tunnel. Helsinki is the only one who is still there, Dušan pacing anxiously at his feet.

“I’d kill you myself for putting me through this if I weren’t so glad to see you,” Sergio says before dragging Andrés into a hug.

Andrés laughs exuberantly, adrenaline still coursing through him. “You didn’t really think I’d leave you, hermanito?”

Sergio shakes his head, a small smile on his lips, though his eyes betray just how scared he was. “Get changed, we need to go.”

Andrés takes the uniform he’s offered and unzips his jumpsuit so Aethra can climb out, jumping onto the floor where she’s immediately set upon by Quinn who starts picking at her fur.

He smiles when she turns to look at him. “Thank you,” he mouths and she sniffs, tail twitching smugly.

He changes, throwing his bloodied jumpsuit to the ground, then turns to Sergio and Helsinki.

“Now, let’s get the fuck out of here, I have a life of luxury to live.”

* * *

**Paris – 2012**

The music is so loud Andrés can barely hear himself think, which is exactly what he wants. He leans against the kitchen counter, watching as Martín whirls to the beat with Luca in his arms and Aethra dancing around his feet.

“Andrés, why aren’t you dancing?” Martín demands, ignoring Luca clawing his way up his shirt.

“Because he’s so drunk he thinks he might fall over if he does,” Aethra snarks from where she’s draped herself over Martín’s feet.

Martín laughs uproariously and holds out a hand towards Andrés. “Come on then, I won’t let you fall.”

Andrés exchanges a look with Aethra who is clearly laughing at him then reaches out and lets Martín pull him away from the counter. Aethra wasn’t wrong, he really is far, far too drunk to dance, but he lets Martín push him back and forth as if they’re in a club until he’s breathless and grinning.

“Enough,” he says eventually. “I need to sit down.”

“You need another drink!” Martín declares as Andrés flops onto the couch, quickly followed by Aethra who drapes herself across his lap.

Andrés shakes his head. “No, I really don’t.”

Martín grins, already pouring them both another whisky. “Yes, you do. Come on, we’re celebrating here.”

“Celebrating or mourning?” Andrés hears Luca snigger. “These days he looks like he’s going to a funeral half the time.”

“Hey,” Martín chastises, staggering over to the couch, Luca on his shoulders, a drink in each hand. “Don’t be mean. Andrés can deal with his divorce however he likes.”

“Thank you,” Andrés says, accepting the whisky against his better judgment.

Martín collapses onto the sofa next to him, clinking their glasses together.

“Maybe I should give up,” Andrés gripes. “Three marriages and three divorces. Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something.”

He can hear Luca laughing near his ear and he drains his drink. Beside him, Martín does the same, patting Andrés’ knee.

“Maybe stop getting married so quickly,” Martín suggests. “Or you know, switch to men.”

Andrés rolls his head to the side to look at Martín who wiggles his eyebrows and they both dissolve into laughter.

Luca crawls along the back of the sofa, so close that his whiskers tickle Andrés’ face when he speaks. “You know what they say, don’t knock it, till you’ve tried it.”

“Luca!” Martín exclaims, scandalised. “I can’t believe you. Behave yourself, por favor!”

Andrés waves a hand. “It’s okay.”

They sit in silence for a moment, only the music still pouring from the speakers breaking the silence.

“Andrés?” Martín asks quietly.

Andrés shifts, so he’s sitting sideways, facing Martín. He waits, but Martín doesn’t say anything else, his hazy, unfocussed eyes studying Andrés’s face.

“Martín, wha– mmph”

He’s cut off by Martín’s mouth pressed to his, Martín’s hand on the back of his head, Martín everywhere, filling every one of his senses. It probably doesn’t last nearly as long as he thinks it does, but eventually, Martín pulls away, eyes dark with an emotion Andrés is refusing to read into.

“What are you doing?” he asks and Martín shakes his head.

“It doesn’t have to mean anything,” he says and Andrés doesn’t like the twinge Martín’s pleading tone causes in his chest. “It could be just for tonight. A… one-time deal.”

Andrés reaches up, gently pulling Martín’s hand from his face, curling his fingers around Martín's wrist. “A one-time deal… is that really what you want?” He shouldn’t be asking that, he’s spent years avoiding asking that question, but he’s just the right side of sad and too drunk to stop himself.

“No,” Martín admits and then he’s kissing Andrés again, just as softly as before, but with more desperation, like he thinks he might never get to again.

“Martín, stop,” Andrés says, shifting away again. “What are you doing?”

Martín sniffs, eyes wet, one coming up to soothe Luca who is nuzzling against his neck. From Andrés’ lap Aethra whines, crawling to be able to nose at Luca’s dangling tail.

“I love you,” Martín says, finally shattering the fragile peace they’d built on shared ignorance.

He grabs Andrés’ hand, but he pulls away, shaking his head. “You’re drunk, Martín.”

Martín laughs wetly. “Yes. I’m drunk, you’re drunk. It’s still true though.” He draws a shaky breath, rubbing his hands over his face, scrubbing at the few tears that have escaped. “And I just… keep waiting for you to wake up one day and love me back, even though I know you never will.”

“We love you.” Aethra speaks before Andrés can, her voice gentle like she’s afraid of spooking Martín. “He loves you.”

“I know, querida,” Martín says, tearing his eyes away from Andrés to look at Aethra.

It’s a relief to no longer be under his insistent gaze, but at the same time, Andrés already misses it, the way he always misses Martín’s attention when it’s not on him.

“Just not in the way I want you to,” Martín whispers, and Luca whines, crawling off the back of the sofa and onto his chest.

Andrés doesn’t apologise, doesn’t reply to what Martín said at all. He holds out his hand to Martín and, when he takes it, pulls him up off the sofa.

“I think we’re both drunk and tired,” he says and Martín’s face falls. “And that you should go to bed before you do something you’ll regret.”

Martín nods, allowing Andrés to guide him and Luca towards their bedroom. Martín collapses face-first onto his bed and Luca narrowly escapes being squished by climbing onto his back.

Almost immediately, Martín starts to snore, the obliviously calm sleep of the truly drunk. On his back, Luca is still awake, staring at Andrés.

“He’s asleep?” Andrés asks and Luca bows his head in acknowledgment. Andrés hesitates, then speaks. “Is it true? Did he mean it or was he just… drunk?”

He trails off when Luca’s lips pull back in an angry hiss. “Are you fucking serious? Get out!”

“Luca,” Andrés begins, but Aethra tugging at the bottom of his trouser leg stops him.

“Go away and hope he’s drunk enough not to remember this in the morning!” Luca says, still baring his teeth and Andrés backs away, scooping up Aethra as he leaves.

“I’m not the one who broke the peace,” Andrés tells her when they’re back in the living room.

Aethra sighs. “There’s no peace to be broken, Andrés. It’s only a war if you make it one.”

* * *

**The Island – 2022**

The side of the boat glints in the sun and Martín laughs as he watches Luca and Aethra stick their heads between the railings, unwilling to get in the water with him and Andrés.

“Come down here and stop being a pussy,” Martín calls and Luca glares at him.

“Leave them be, mi amor,” Andrés says indulgently, swimming over to him “If they don’t want to get wet then they don’t have to.”

Martín pouts but allows Andrés to take his hand and drag him through the water until he can wrap his arms around Andrés’ neck and his legs around his waist. Andrés stretches one arm up to grab the ladder at the side of the boat and stop them from going under.

He pushes some of Martín’s wet hair out of his face, grinning when he sees himself reflected in Martín’s sunglasses.

“You know, I always thought I’d make an incredible lifeguard,” he says and Martín smiles, leaning in to kiss him briefly.

“You would,” he agrees “Although I think you might easily get distracted by all the half-naked women – and men.”

Andrés licks a stray drop of water off Martín’s cheek and smirks. “Only if you’re there, cariño. I wouldn’t even notice anyone else.”

Martín laughs, pushing Andrés closer to the boat. “You’re a terrible liar and incredibly lucky that Luca and I are so forgiving.”

“You maybe, but not Luca,” Aethra says from above them. “He holds a grudge.”

“Well someone has to,” Luca complains. “Now hurry up and get out of there. I’m bored.”

Andrés flicks water up at him and shakes his head. “Martín, mi vida, your daemon is terribly bossy.”

Martín shrugs, already pushing past Andrés to climb up the ladder. “What do you want me to do about it? You knew what you were getting into.”

“I suppose I did,” Andrés mumbles, watching Martín and his very short swimming trunks making their way up onto the boat, tiny drops of water glittering on his bronzed skin.

He climbs up after him and finds Martín sprawled on the sun deck, Luca and Aethra on either side of him. Andrés gives himself a cursory wipe with a towel and throws it on the floor, crossing the deck to join him.

He drops to his knees, and crawls up Martín’s body, smiling when his skin, still cool from the ocean, touches Martín and makes him shiver. He leans down to kiss him, deeply, insistently, ignoring Luca and Aethra’s disgruntled muttering as they shuffle away from the two of them.

Martín tastes like the salt of the ocean and the cocktails they were drinking earlier and his body is deliciously warm under Andrés’.

He breaks the kiss to allow them both a moment to breathe, resting his forehead on Martín’s clavicle. He feels a hand on the back of his neck, Martín pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

“I love you,” he says into Martín’s sun-warmed skin.

“Feeling sentimental?” Martín queries and Andrés shakes his head, shifting a little to look up at him.

“No,” he says. “Just happy. Aren’t you?”

Martín smiles. “With you? Always.”

“Saps,” Luca mocks fondly, from beside them where he’s curled around Aethra.

“Hush,” she chastises. “It’s sweet.”

Martín snorts. “Thanks. I’m glad you think so.”

Andrés laughs and Martín’s arms come up to wrap around his waist. Above them, the sun is high in a clear sky almost as blue as the ocean surrounding them, and Andrés shuts his eyes, face pressed against Martín’s chest, fully, peacefully content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... i'm not ruling out that i might write more for this series, but for the moment let's consider this the end. thanks to everyone who's taken an interest and read this (as well as for your enjoyment of luca and aethra whom you all seem to care about more than the actual lcdp characters), I appreciate each and every one of you

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this, i'll update fairly sporadically and my apologies if anything seemed ooc
> 
> thank you to mari for her help with the spanish (your payment will follow in the next chapter!)
> 
> you can find a list of everyone's daemon's [here](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com/post/620557086371250176/idk-if-anyone-is-interested-but-here-is-everyones)  
> as always feel free to comment, or yell at me on tumblr ([@hefellfordean](https://hefellfordean.tumblr.com)) or twitter ([@angstypalermo](https://twitter.com/angstypalermo))


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